IN THE SPIDER'S WEB
by serenidad
Summary: As blame shall be cast on to whom it belongs, you're either the puppet or holding the strings. (Story's not lyrical.) / PAUSED UNTIL MARCH 2020
1. Leading Position

_**Author's note: **I always tried to draft a fanfiction to read like an actual episode, so this one includes a great deal of process through interaction among the crew (_some _action, of course). Hope you don't dismiss the intrduction in "Leading Positions", "Taking detours" and "Roles and Relations" as too dry... if you do, start at Chapter 4, "A Rough Night", Riker sum's up their dilemma in "Perspective & Potential"._

_Nonetheless... enjoy yourselves and leave a review :)_

* * *

„Captain's Log, Stardate 45345.7

The Enterprise is en route to Loral II, where we will evaluate findings of the local Federation outpost regarding the state of the planet's perspective on membership. Lieutenant Commander Jurill has requested assistance in monitoring the societies development after long-boiling conflicts are now troubling ongoing negotiations."

Picard paused the recording, weighing his next words. The situation was all too familiar to him: Two main parties, struggling for dominance, veiling their ambitions in large words. Empty promises of peace and prosperity were also a standard ingredient. Yet he could not allow himself to think of any upcoming negotiating as being served properly by a by-the-book approach. All of them had their own history, their own special needs that had to be addressed properly.

In this case the Loralians were fighting among themselves: One faction claimed to have been expatriated long ago and demanded autonomous territory and being compensated. Government denied them the latter and offered negotiations according the former. _So far, so universal,_ Picard caught himself thinking. Negotiations had been prolonged, led to no satisfying outcome, been postponed and eventually put on hold. Then the first random attacks took innocent citizens' lives and no one the responsibility for them. Officials then declared it terrorism and rebels felt, now that they were being accused of such methods, they could very well use them indeed... _I wonder of there is any government in space which perceives an attack as the mislead actions of a single individual, and refrains from pronouncing it a first and unprovoked strike, empty of all symbolical meaning,_ the Captain mused silently. _Perhaps it would put such pressure on any subversive group to come back at the negotiation table, if only not to be suspected of silent approval of the attack, that an individual rampage could foster a peace process – if only one resisted the temptation to take political advantage of the loss of live._ But then, governments were all too often consistent of politicians, and those would not have risen to their ranks and positions of they had never learn to craft an (ultimately self-serving) opportunity out of a potentially powerful symbolic event.

Despite his intention to prepare himself properly for a first contact, which one always had to be prepared for as Captain of the flagship, reliable informations about the current situation were hardly available. Lieutenant Commander Jurill had been precise and cautious in his reports: Several months ago rebels had agreed to sit again at the negotiation table, after the government had hit down isolated demonstrations in an unprecedented harsh and violent manner. Loss on both sides had to be mourned. If only the scale in the deployment of violence was new about it – government had used military force occasionally in the past -, a mutual agreement was hampered by the refusal to investigate in the disappearance of several "terrorists", last known to be held in custody. Furthermore, weeks after the accused head of operations of the subversive group had last been seen in a hearing to which only selected representatives had been allowed, demonstrations were still ongoing – but Lieutenant Jurill had added an illegally acquired document to his report which stated that the demonstration had been announced beforehand and been approved by the local authorities.

There might be only a conservative and overly ambitious soldier in the middle management behind that inconsistency, but it might be as well much more. So far, Picard strongly approved of Jurill's caution to draw premature conclusions. The same was true for her description of the fighting patterns of the rebels: In contrast to their former behavior during negotiations, attacks constantly occurred during the talks. Again, this might be rooted in the fact that different persons were representing their factions – the subversive Loralian leader had not even bargained for a truce beforehand this time -, but it could as much be the symptom of a different mindset among the rebels. After all, Starfleet Command never sent the flagship without ulterior motive. There sure was more about it than a simple request to document and report on how two rivalling factions fought about their territorial claims.  
Yet, Captain Picard felt comfortable in the habit to put an aim on the line, if only for the record.

"I am looking forward to the exchange with Lieutenant Commander Jurill", full rank deemed him appropriate here to express his acknowledgement, "and to the opportunity to enhance my experience and understanding of negotiating tactics and strategies."

"Helm, set a course for Loral II", Picard ordered, back on the bridge minutes later.

"Loral II?", Riker repeated, raising his voice at the end of the sentence to express the questioning nature of the statement, as he must have learned in a crash-course in French. Deanna Troi to the left hand side of his chair needed no language teachings to grasp Riker's inquiring intentions. Data at the navigator's console had probably analyzed the speech and vocal patterns of Riker and identified the pronunciation technique as well. Perfectly within habitual patterns, all senior officers were aware of the second layer in the First Officer's words, and attentive to Picard's response.

"We're going to assist a Federation outpost with the monitoring of societies' progress", Picard explained, restricting the information to what he wanted to be known widely among the crew. "They're evaluating the populations progress toward developing warp drive."

Informal channels through the helmsman – Ensign Matthews, judging from the tight bun of green hair and rifles in the neck – had to be taken into account on board the Enterprise as on every other ship in Starfleet. Picard would neglect vital parts of his role as a Captain if he did not handle them appropriately.

"Are we expecting a first contact?", Riker played along.

"It's too early to say", Picaerd answered. "The Loralians have made considerable progress in meeting the requirements, but they're not quite there yet."

The Captain had long learned that communicating unknown aspects openly – or half-openly, for that context – would not be perceived by the crew as insecurity or lack of sufficient preparations, but consider it an incentive to conduct their further research and contribute their findings through proper channels. Picard knew he could trust their efforts to enrich and foster their mission's success. Still he was careful to phrase the obstacles for membership not too precise, as broad knowledge about the ongoing conflict might push people to take sides and compromise their research interest. He also refrained from setting the meeting of the senior staff by verbal command, but had scheduled it as appointment in what was early evening aboard.

"What's our estimated time of arrival, Mr Data?", Riker asked, checking the console of his armchair.

"ETA is 7.34 in a standard orbit to Loral II", the Android met the expected requirement.

The First Officer, having noticed the appointment, turned away from the console. Two breaths later, he said, addressing Data: "Assemble Senior staff in the observation lounge at five."

"Aye, Sir", Data confirmed.

It was, of course, the time Picard had set, but he was confident with the crew ascribing the competence for setting senior staff meetings to his First Officer.


	2. Taking Detours

Deanna Troi made a mental note to the time of their meeting, before allowing herself to dwell on the sensual impressions of her Betazoid self. Riker's slight puzzlement, with no trace of concern or unrest, had passed at Picard's obviously tailored answer. The helmsman's feeling of consistent drive was hardly recognizable behind the intense pressure and vigilance, as it was only her third shift on the bridge. Yet the stable motivation and slight fearless curiosity confirmed her's and Riker's judgement in former evaluations that Ensign Matthews would meet the expectations of a bridge officer. Deanna planned to interview her on this curiosity, which would normally wane completely under pressure, and decide whether to discuss the line between curiosity and recklessness. So far, she had no reason to question Matthew's attitude.

Now both were in a state of deep-rooted confidence and, in Picards case, even relaxation: He was looking forward to the mission. Whereas Captain Picard was so stable in his mood and attitude that she herself found it hard to keep her attention from faltering, Riker's track of emotional development was far more interesting to follow: Sometimes he hid rough antagonism behind that beard of his, having chosen the best teacher of strategically using his facial features in Picard. His feelings appeared in no wrinkle of his face, even if utmost panic made a his head hammering to the point of pain, as during their encounters with the Borg. In their early days as a crew, she could judge from the amount of his self assurance whether he had just tried to impress Picard (boastingly self-confident), learning in honest admiration (confident) or acting according to his best knowledge and experience, but in fact had no idea how to solve a problem whatsoever (insecure). Despite her familiarity with their feelings, Deanna knew her limits, too. Data would be an enigma to her as long as he did not have most basic emotions, and she wasn't sure whether even full Betazoids with telepathic abilities could decipher his mental processes. Ensign Matthews at helm was not hard to understand, but then Lieutenant Worf at tactical harbored a huge variety of cultured and well-disciplined aggression and anger. Troi was able by now to differentiate his anger from rage, which might move him to quick thinking and action, which could be unsuitable for Picard's generally more diplomatic approach. In a painting drawn with red and black only everyone would find it hard to tell the dancing figures from the dawn in the background, Dr. Crusher had once put it beautifully in a nutshell. It's all a matter of context, Deanna had added, pursuing the topic of relationships on an abstract level for a while, hoping that the doctor might open up on any feelings of passion or even intimacy in the process. Crusher, as always, let the exchange remain superficial, so that Deanna could have been staring at her fiery red hair just as well, and gain just as much insight on her friends current emotional flux.

Data's smooth and steady voice drew her attention back to the bridge.

"... distress call", he announced clearly, fingers flowing across the pannel.

"Report", Picard ordered.

"The freighter Montagnier has issued a distress call", Data used standard communication patterns, "The ship's been running on impulse, but systems are offline, life support down to thirty percent, shields are holding, structure integrity not compromised", the android summed up the sensor readings.

"Life signs?"

"Three hundred sixty nine", Data answered, "The freighter can be identified as Betton-Class, capable of carrying up to five hundred passengers aboard. According to records of the star base it was last docking to", Data paused, giving a credible interpretation of an officer hesitating to read out his research, "The ship carried three hundred ninety five passengers five days ago."

"Any thesis about the nature of the urgency?", Riker rose his voice.

"Unknown, Sir. Sensor readings are inconclusive from our current position."

"Next accessible solar system?"

"Berudian IV as only class M planet would be a theoretical option. Solar systems in the region have not yet developed warp technology", Data correctly anticipated the next question, as Berudian had forty degrees celsius on its surface, on average.

"Well, we'll have to figure out where they're heading after we've made contact", Picard ended the discussion, "Ensign, set a rendez-vous course with the Montagnier, maximum warp", he commanded.

"Course plotted and laid in", Matthews answered with her wheezy voice.

"Engage."

It was oddly unspectacular to watch the Ensign push a button and know that the ship beneath their feed was now jumping into speed faster than light, but no sound or other impression met their senses.

"Estimated time of arrival?", Riker asked for the second time that day.

"At current speed, seven minutes, eight seconds", Data answered calm and precisely.

"Picard to Engineering", the Captain called.

"LaForge here."

"Convert shuttle bays into medical triage units immediately, we're expecting three hundred seventy passengers of unknown condition."

"Aye, Sir", said LaForge's disembodied voice.

"Picard to sickbay ..."


	3. Roles & Relations

Of course Dr. Crusher was late for the meeting. She was looking tired, Picard noticed when she quietly joined the senior staff, but she would not have left the shuttlebay if someone required medical attention by a physician of her skills. Yet she wore only the standard uniform, signalling that she needed to literally strip off the role of CMO for a moment.

"... as Lieutenant Commander Jurill requested, we will provide full assistance to the team in analyzing the behavior patterns of the parties", the Captain summed up their task. "Until we've established their level of technology development, intervening as mediators is not an option."

"Captain", Worf raised his voice, "Jurill's team seems to have worked thoroughly and to their best efforts", he stated, apparently acknowledging a Federation equivalent of honorable service, "What benefit could lie in an analyzes of our own?"

"The report often does not always state the source of information", Picard answered slowly, careful to avoid ascribing any blame to Jurill's team, "As research according to the demonstrations in particular was conducted covertly among the Loralians. Therefore, the documentation could be unreliable, as then must be our conclusions from it."

"So … let me get this straight", LaForge, who had also joined them only minutes ago, threw in, "Lieutenant Commander Jurill is uncertain if this official approval has been issued, but withheld … and therefore military forces struck down their people whom they were supposed to protect?"

"That is one option", Picard confirmed. "And as we know about it, but perhaps the Loralians don't, we need to discuss what to do with this knowledge – that the demonstrations actually were allowed – in our hands."

"Forgive me, Captain, but isn't the Prime Directive very clear about this?", Dr. Crusher raised her voice, now that she had got hold of the topic, "Regardless of how this has come to our attention, we may not interfere with the societies development. Therefore we must keep it a secret, if local authorities have no knowledge of the truth."

"That is, indeed, my own interpretation here, too", the Captain answered, "And might be the reason why Starfleet send the flagship. To emphasize the importance of non-interference."

They all remained silent for a moment.

It was a gruesome perspective: Having to watch an entire population clash among themselves, when they could easily be on their way to peace and prosperity, if one officer was only allowed to tell what they knew. It wasn't so hard of they learned of propaganda during a covert operation, but keeping your eyes wide shut with simply truth in mind and hearts would be hard to endure.

"There is another possibility, Captain", Riker broke the silence, "If the informations were gathered in covert operations, Starfleet must have installed an officer among the officials. At least as a civil servant. Otherwise we would never have known", he laid out, "And as we said, the fact that we know of this approval does not necessarily mean, the responsible member of the military did. But it also does not mean he did not know that the demonstrations were allowed", he went on, causing obvious confusion among his colleagues.

"Please elaborate, Number One."

"Perhaps the commander-in-chief simply ignored the order", he suggested.

"Then the security forces would endanger the negotiations for a truce, and peace", LaForge concluded, "Nobody's going to sit at a table if they're expecting random violence."

"Still, that's none of our business", Dr. Crusher reminded him, "I don't like it either, but we've no right to intervene here..."

"Or perhaps", Deanna Troi added in a low voice, forcing them to pay closer attention to her than to their own discussion, "Perhaps Starfleet suspects that one of their officers on Loral isn't as loyal to the Prime Directive as we are."

Silence fell between them.

The cringes in Worfs forehead seemed to deepen even further. Geordi had his eyebrows raised far beyond the edge of his Visor. Data and Riker were staring at her, motionless in their expression. Picard let his gaze rest calmly on her, and with and attitude of friendly openness. Crusher came back from the stasis first.

"What's that supposed to mean, not as loyal as we are?"

"Maybe the demonstration was approved by a civil servant, who is in fact a covert Starfleet officer?", she explained, "And Lieutenant Commander Jurill knows or suspects this interference, but can't proof it or won't?"

"That is one option", Picard supported her thesis, "Yet we need to keep in mind that we're speculating here. When we arrive, we'll talk to Lieutenant Commander Jurill. Maybe she has to add anything that's deliberately left out of the report." Picard found himself fully aware of the context that he was sitting in for the second time that day, and that he could never possibly voice such suspicions in any other place aboard. "Counselor, Commander Data, we'll beam down to the covert outpost on the surface once we've reached standard orbit", Picard laid out the upcoming procedure, "And talk to all available participants. We'll just interview them as they're present, and not call them in for an appointment, as to raise no awareness in case they're hiding something from us. We'll then reconvene and discuss further options. Any questions?"

No one raised their voice to continue the discussion, they were all brooding over the thought of such illoyalty in one way or another. Trespassing this basic, most vital principle always was a Court Martial offence. One could just as well burn their uniform.

"Then except for Dr Crusher, you're dismissed."

* * *

"You were late." He said it in a warm tone, when she had lowered herself in the chair on his right hand sight, where Riker had sat minutes before. She looked even more tired from an arm's length.

"Sorry for the inconvienience", she answered dryly, learned forward, folding her arms across the table. He decided to wait. While silence hung between them, the ship's steady, soft, well-known sounds seemed to grow louder.

"It wasn't really necessary, Jean-Luc", Crusher finally engaged in conversation, "We were hold by some surgery, reconstruction of cranial features, eighteen bones, see..."

"Chance of survival?"

"High", she quickly added, "Dr. Selar did most of it. She wanted me to stay in case something went wrong, but it's not complicated, she's just inexperienced."

"So, what are we dealing with, after all?"

"As your original scans read, there were around three hundred seventy souls aboard", she reported, "But their distress call was not issued because of a medical emergency. Some engine failure, maybe poor maintenance, LaForge will give you the details. The ship must have dropped out of warp roughly, six engineers had serious plasma burns. We treated around thirty concussions, several broken legs, one of them critical – this Ringellian had all six legs fractured and suffered loss of blood internally-, but apart from that, nothing life-threatening."

"The Montagnier left the starbase five days ago with almost four hundred passengers. What happened to the rest of the crew?"

"According to a … I'd say, probably male Uridian who acted like he was the Captain, as he was the only one shouting, most people acted on his screams and no one really took offence by his behavior, they made a stop at Risa three days ago", she paused, obviously amused by the grin across his face, "I don't believe it either, but I have not hint or proof that anything else happened to them than that they simply left the ship."

"It's great to see how many races seem to throw over all rational thinking at the thought of Risa", Picard explained his reaction, "This Uridian must have discovered that issuing the topic of endless pleasant vacation allowed him easy access to most of those he's talking to. And nobody's asking further questions on how exactly they acquired their cargo, or what they plan to do with it..."

"Well, I did not question him further, either", Crusher admitted, "If they're not aboard, they could not have been hurt, so I set other priorities."

"Of course, doctor. Please continue."

"We left the shuttlebay converted into that triage center LaForge set out", she went on, "Just most of the medical supplies were restored, and I ordered Ensigns Lo'chan and Brown to maintain two small units for any kind of emergency. It seems to calm those who were in pain. Being close to the group, I mean", she described, "The crew is of mixed origin, as expected, but most of them are Phobytures."

"They hardly search contact to each other except for self-defence", Picard threw in.

"Exactly. When we beamed them aboard, they quickly hurried away from each other. Made it rather easy to spot those who needed assistance. Seeing them, standing meters apart from each other in pairs, seldom as up to four people, even most of them _alone"_, she actually shivered at that, "I'd have never expected that the presence of others in the same room would still be that important."

"Do you know anything about their culture? Their habits, their rituals, how they raise their children?"

"Honestly, no", she let him down, "Judging from that inconsistent observation – we had a job to do, Jean-Luc -, I'd say that up to a certain age, children are kept close to elders, but not necessarily their parents. I thought I recognized a certain shape of ears of a … well, probably a girl, from a couple with two young ones of whom one received treatment for plasma burns. Deanna is probably much more up to date concerning their psychology and development."

"I'd pay them a visit with her anyway, ship's business permitting, of course", he laid out his plans.

"I strongly recommend her presence", the doctor summed up her reportings, "It's quite a clash of values here. Lo'Chan and Brown are trained for dealing with reclusive species, but they lack Deannas experience, and I currently don't have an empath on the team. Treatment seemed hard to endure for some, getting close to a total stranger is something to bear for them."

"Noted", Picard replied. With any other Captain one might mistake this as a proposal being slapped down shortly, but with Picard it meant that he would initiate all necessary deployments of staff and supplies.

"I'll have to finish my documentation", she pointed out, allowing herself to massage the root of her nose and her brows to narrow, as if she had a slight headache. "When will we arrive at Loral?"

"Eight fifteen", he said, "The detour has limited impact on our plans. My meeting's with Lieutenant Commander Jurill is scheduled for eight thirty. I am looking forward to it."

"She's an ambitious woman, I heard." Crusher usually was clear-cut on gossip like this. "First Bajoran officer to rise among the ranks of Starfleet to Lieutenant Commander before turning thirty. Served seven years under Captain Holloway. In ops, on top of that."

"I didn't know she was Bajoran", Picard commented, mildly intrigued on what Beverlys motivations might have been to conduct a similar research like his own. "It's going to be interesting any way. Will I see you at breakfast?"

"Depends on when I get out of sickbay", Crusher replied elusively, "You always get an emergency in when you've plans."

"I'll save a croissant for you", Picard promised. It did not seem appropriate to dismiss her formally, now that he had asked for their private ritual, so he just slowly rose in order to signal that their discussion was finished. She caught up quickly and left as well.


	4. A Rough Night

Deanna Troi stirred and turned, the cloth way too warm and comfortable to leave the bed. The alarm clock, an old-fashioned literal clock instead of simply using the computer's chronometer, resisted her muting attempts in five-minutes-intervals. At the third time, she sunk her head demonstratively in the cushion.

After the fourth alarm, a sudden rush of annoyance swept over her. "If you don't turn it off or get up next time, I'll sent you back to your quarters from now on", the male voice grumbled darkly. He was so angry that the rush of adrenalin in her veins made her crawl out of the sheets.

"Would you do that? Make love to me and send me away?"

"D'you think I've never done that before?", he inquired, putting on a provocative grin.

Troi found it hard to restrain herself from lecturing him on people who showed inconsistent bonding patters in their relationships due to unreliable maternal attendance. "I do not require specifics on that to fulfill my duty as your ship's Counselor", she chose a compromise between her role and private person.

"_And_ you usually save that talk for your sessions with people who are not married until the age of forty-five, suggesting they've been neglected in their childhood."

"Get out of my head, Will."

"It's been comfortable inside you, as always, Imzadi", he rolled over to her side of his bed, leaving the blanket lying on the other half. "Not even five, Deanna", he sighed with a look at the clock, "You're not dying you're uniform before duty, will you?"

"It's been two hundred years since..."

"Just kiddin'", he threw in, accepting the victory of her early appointment, whatever it was, over his intentions. Serving some coffee and a little chocolate praliné on her saucer, he involved her in conversation. "Honestly, Imzadi, d'you think I'd cast you out of my bed when we're done? As Picard does with Crusher?"

"Yes, you would", came a muffled sound from his bathroom, issuing a fully adequate assumption about his dealings with women.

"Even if you were my wife?"

She did not respond at once this time, but finished her shower and built her hair in shape. Riker decided, as he had learned so much from his superior, not to push her further. When she was done with her morning routine, she took her familiar place at his table, and made no effort to hide her delight at the sight of the small chocolate.

"We've been over this, Will, for about how...?"

"Perhaps a thousand times", he followed her lead, taking the coffee from the replicator and, still naked, pouring her a large cup. "Perhaps more", he went on, pouring himself a cup.

"If I were your wife, we could never share the same bedroom", she explained, taking a sip.

"Then we'd have separate ones."

"I'd be crazy with jealousy within months", she objected.

"And perhaps even rightfully so."

They both were not hungry at this early time of the day, and knew each other too well to insist on formalities like asking. Either one of them would help themselves, if in need for any other than each others company.

* * *

Truth was, she could never have married Riker because she was simply too much a Betazoid, Deanna mused on her way down to the shuttlebays. To be wakened by his annoyance, like this morning, just was way too unnerving to include it permanently in her life. She had long been involved with a Bajoran, who's mental discipline was a cultural feature acquired under years of Cardassian suppression, but he never allowed himself to succumb to passionate lovemakings as Riker did. He had been steady, reliable, moderately ambitious and would sure be one day a great, emotionally balanced father to his children. Just that those wouldn't be hers.

Approaching the shuttlebays, Deanna got pulled from her thoughts from the impressions on this special part of herself. It was not confusion, as she had expected, or a mildly aggressive variety of feelings that she sensed. Both were perfectly normal for a group that had been dislocated from their usual environment. She felt like approaching Data, who had his emotion chip implanted, but deactivated: Somewhere, deep down in his conscience, there _were_ feelings in his psyche. Yet in this state, none of them moved his actions or influenced his judgement. They just did not bother him at all.

She had reached the hangar. Large grey doors moved aside to make way for her.

It was like being sucked out into vacuum. The vast hall was crowded with humanoids, but fewest souls filled it with their presence. They weren't in a cold or hostile state of mind, just painfully absent. Troi made her way along a corridor between beds which was probably kept for medical purposes, and indeed found herself in a small unit, separated by improvised walls, shielding a patient from sight of bystanders. Stopping here for a moment, Troi noticed that this was way less irritating: She felt no immediate presence, and seeing no one was far more in accordance with that.

Following the corridors, she ended up back among people.

Familiar reddish hair over a blue coat hurried from one end to another in the middle of the hangar. Dr. Crusher gave no sign that she had seen Deanna. _So he's probably really shoving her out every night_, she caught herself thinking, but pushed the picture from her mind. The Counselor resisted her temptation to interview one of the Ensigns, whom she had spotted upon entrance, about the situation. That would have been a breach of protocol, as their superior officer was present. She had long ago conveyed the message – in fact, that was one of the standard sentences at welcoming ceremonies for new crewmembers -, that despite her being available for all the ship's souls, she still was a Starfleet officer and bound to certain hierarchies. Not addressing Ensign Lo'Chan and the other, rather unfamiliar officer, did not imply that she ascribed them less competence.

Troi kept watching the ongoings in the shuttlebay.

Had Crusher just _flinched_ at that touch from Lo'Chan? The CMO listened to her Ensign, who waved his arm into Deannas direction. Crusher nodded and handed him the tricorder. After short instructions, she made her way back towards the Counselor.

"Good morning, Doctor."

"What time is it, Deanna?"

"I left at five fifteen."

"Oh...", she closed her eyes and massaged her temples.

"Rough night?"

"You bet...", Crusher usually made a point with what Deanna regularly crowned in secret as understatement of the week. Her admitting that she's had loads to care for was a statement in itself. "Remind me to request a midwife with interracial experience. Knowledge of specific expression of pain always comes in handy, and I recommend achievements in Vulcan meditation techniques."

"What happened?", Troi inquired, astonished.

"The wife of an injured Rigellian went into labor at ten last night", the CMO explained, "He's in sickbay, and she was upset over that already. She gave birth to three healthy eggs, which she said were to be kept with the mother."

"Did you comply to her wishes?"

"Of course", Crusher snapped, "I'd never allow a newborn to be separated from it's mother unless for urgent medical reasons."

Troi remembered the specifics of Crusher's report that she had read before leaving for her date with Riker last night: Added to the database at nine thirty standards Federation time, the CMO couldn't have slept much. If she had rested at all. She let the irritation go uncommented. "And there were no such reasons?", Troi calmly asked. The topic seemed appropriate to shift Crusher's attention focus to the present, allowing her to relax a little, with no pressure of necessary immediate action.

"No, they're fine", Crusher replied. Judging from a slight decrease of her shoulders' height and the impression on her Betazoid senses, Trois technique worked out well.

She watched the CMO take a few deep breaths. "So, what can I do for you in such early hours of today?"

"Your report said it'd be advisable for a psychologist to support and moderate adaptation processes of our guests", she used the very same words as Crusher had in her documentation to lay down upcoming treatment requirements. Troi hoped to create a sense of familiarity by that, and convey the message that Crusher's work was acknowledged and appreciated.

"It's great that you came down here, but I'd estimate it's too early for treatment of yours", the physician responded. "They're rather reclusive, you see. The birth tonight is still shaking them up. See that two Phobytures in the corner? And the family over there? They had been standing closer when I left for the meeting. Stress drives them into solitude. When they're back at speaking terms, they can handle verbal treatment."

Troi knew her friend's observation capacities, even under intense pressure, way too well than to question the reliability of her conclusions. "OK. Call me when you need me."

"Certainly."

"And, Beverly, one other suggestion", the Counselor gave her a stern look, at which she felt Crusher's attention rise involuntarily, "Have breakfast and sleep at least six hours before twelve, understood?"

"Casting aside that I'm the CMO on this ship: Yes, Ma'm, as you wish."


	5. Best Laid Plans

They gathered precisely at eight twenty in Transporterroom Three, which was closest to the bridge. Worf busied himself with preparing the transport, so that they required no additional assistance and could speak freely.

"We've received alternate coordinates, Captain", the Klingon announced. "Your presence is required in a civilian building. The message was send by Lieutenant Commander Jurill herself."

Data rushed over to cast a quick look over the console. "This location would appear to be in the south-west end of the capital", he read out.

"Anything else worth mentioning in accordance with this location?", Riker asked.

"It is well within walking distance to the central state prison.", the android provided them with details from his thorough preparation.

"I am sure they won't bind our hands and feet together and carry us through the streets to throw us in a holding cell", Picard anticipated his First Officer's nightmarish speculations correctly, "But keep a lock on our signals, Mr. Worf, just to be sure."

"Aye, Sir."

"Data, Troi, you're with me", Picard ordered them. They took a familiar position on the transporter platform. "Number One, you have the bridge. Mr. Worf, engage."

A vague, cool silver gloom surrounded them. Through its energetic veil Picard watched the transporter room slowly be replaced by what appeared to be picture of Piet Mondrian, but in black and white, only to develop into the layout of a neatly cut, smooth-surfaced laboratory.

Some color stepped into the room. A slim, female humanoid in a black and red uniform had obviously been waiting for them from out of their sight.

"Captain Picard. It is a pleasure and an honour."

The transporter ray had faded away. Picard took a symbolical step forward.

"I am Lieutenant Commander Jurill, head of the station", the woman introduced herself. She must have visited the Academy at earth, he thought, as they shook hands, as Bajorans usually refrained from this custom. He noticed that she did not wear the traditional large earring despite her people being officially allowed to. So she probably was not religious, or overly conformist. _Maybe it's true what they say about Halloway and his no-carrots-stick-only style of leadership_, Picard allowed himself to muse, and this authoritative policy suppresses officers personalities. Yet her greeting displayed basic understandings of diplomacy: Study your guests habits and make sufficient adjustments.

"Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the USS Enterprise", he added, staying formally, "And this is my ship's Counselor Deann Troi", she was welcomed by the same handshake, "And Commander Data."

"Forgive me for being intrusive", Jurill paved the way for the standard question, "But are you not the android from Dr. Soong, the cyberneticist?"

"I am indeed an android, and Dr. Soong created me", Data confirmed her inquiry. Being emotionless, he could not have been unnerved by the question, and Picard knew that such a subtle tone in Datas voice was more his perception than real.

"We are here to comply to your request, Lieutenant Commander", Picard led them back to the topic of their mission. "I have studied your reports intensely beforehand. You've done some pretty thorough research and issued well-reasoned statements" He put her on a first test there and wondered whether she would catch up on the phrase.

"It would have been inadequate to leap to any conclusions, however obvious they might appear", she replied, meeting his expectations satisfactorily.

She led them through the lab, probably fully aware that Data memorized each detail they encountered, forming a rough understanding of their scientific capabilities. Next to what he assumed was their workplace they found themselves standing in an equally neat and tidy room, filled by an oval table of darkest, heavy wood. "Please, Captain, take a seat."

Picard walked calmly to the upper end, leaving the chair at the slim end deliberately empty. Troi and Data, as was their standard procedure, took a seat next to him. In a different context, an investigation for example, one of his officers would seat themselves next to their host and lean a little backwards. Both with Troi and Data he had developed an excellent non-verbal communication system of blinking and other tiny gestures. Their choice to take places at the table served one other purpose as well.

Lieutenant Commander Jurill pulled a large porcelain can and a plate of four cups with a silver cube from a replicators shaft. "I heard, you prefer tea over alcoholic beverages."

"That's true."

"It's various blends in here", she lowered the tablet on the wooden surface with much more caution than necessary, as if this was her first time handling porcelain, and opened the ornamented metallic box. As they helped themselves to a tea, Jurill herself took, as anticipated, a seat at the other half of the table. With two seats obviously empty next to her, the situation made her answer a question Picard had not yet asked.

"I must excuse my second-in-command, Lieutenant Pagok", she waved toward the empty seats on her left hand side, "He's in a covert mission and reports to me once a week, at maximum, to avoid suspicion. He has no means of communication with him other than word and pen, we decided to play it by the book here. Loral is still officially a species incapable of warp drive."

_A risky approach_, Picard thought. Prime Directive was strict on prohibiting all pollution of a civilization with Federation Technology, but he himself had never sent an officer without a standard communicator into covert operations. Yet another point caught and bound his attention. He exercised patience, Jurill would address the issue in no time. The blend of Earl Grey tasted delicious. "The covert story is he has a sick mother to attend to and strangers will upset her, as she suffers from a similar form of Alzheimer's dementia", she laid out the details, which gave Picard another option to think about. _Way too early to address that, too_, he told himself. "When he does not serve his mother's medical needs, he's busy as general undersecretary of Samrei Nopurga."

"Quite a remarkable achievement", Data raised his voice, "How exactly did you place him in such an accessible position to the Chancellor?"

"We've had a lot of luck during this operation", she hastened to undermine his assessment, "Apart from our own officers in comfortable position, who recommended Lieutenant Pagok, or as he's currently known, Han Refur, as suitable for the job. Otherwise, the usual stuff: a mixture of bribery, blackmail, threats and holding other candidates from meetings which hosted crucial discussions to be well-informed."

For the first time, Picard truly recognized her as Bajoran. She spoke with honest casuality of her methods, as if she had grown up with them being perhaps not legitimate, but available means to an end. Her refusal to accept Data's acknowledgment appeared a deep-rooted habit of not allowing a superior to regard you as so clever it might threaten one's own position. _No wonder she got along so well with Starfleet under Halloway._

"How can we be of help?", he limited himself to saying.

"We decided to open up an outpost down here, in the city, due to an unexpected development", Jurill answered, and the Captain could tell she did so with much less ease than before. "Han Refur was re-assigned to the local state prison after two government officials were found dead in their homes, apparently murdered from the Alliance."

"Please explain, Lieutenant Commander."

"The four alleged murderers are being held in custody in the prison Han Refur has taken office in", Jurill said, suddenly exhausted, "And the government has made it clear that should anything happen to his aide, they would not only end all negotiations, but – quote - "smoke them out", unquote."

"So this assignment's supposed to convey the message that Chancellor Nopurga takes his responsibility seriously", Picard summed up her elaboration. "How would you assess Lieutenant Pagok's security status?"

"Completely unreliable", she gave the answer he had expected and dreaded equally. "No official or inofficial channel could provide us with reliable information about how the Alliance chooses its targets, or in which intervals they're attacking. It's sometimes weeks without an incident, then several casualties within days."

"How does Lieutenant Pagok cope with that?", Deanna Troi threw in, "Being put on the stakes as pawn sacrifice?"

"Reasonably well", the Bajoran woman answered, taking no obvious offence at Troi's brutal suggestion, "He's lost weight, as he's vomiting all the time, and carries a headache to work every other day. Apart from that, he assures me he's been worse. As to address your question, Captain", she turned back to Picard, "I need you identify a pattern of the terrorist's attacks, so that I can protect my second-in-command."

"He's in a position where he cannot simply be withdrawn from", the Captain agreed. _Laying this down in her report might have provoked Starfleet to engage in questioning whether she fulfilled her responsibilities_, he mused silently. _They would end up in a controversy about whether to replace Lieutenant Commander Jurill, and with whom, and completely forget the issue at hand._

"How do you estimate the chance of him being the target of an attack?", Data inquired.

"I can't say", she admitted, "But judging from overall circumstances, I'd say rather high. It's a rather delicate position, making him act as the guardian angel for prisoners of the Alliance."

"How so?", Picard asked.

"Despite the Chancellor being heavily involved in negotiations", Jurill emphasized 'negotiations', not 'heavily', so that Picard felt inclined to believe his aim was a mutual agreement rather than his own position, "Something has spinned out of control. Prisoners – that is, alleged or proven members of the Alliance-, have last been seen at their imprisonment. Rumor has it, they died during questioning process."

Once again, a most casually committed euphemism that made Picard picture her as a child, wrinkles on her nose as to her being Bajoran, among hungry and weary adults in a Cardassian labor camp. He forced himself to focus. "Have you retrieved any proof for that?"

"As so far, no, not at all", she replied, surprising her guests for the first time. "The assignment of Pagok comes in handy, for that matter, as he has full access to those in custody, at all time. We've agreed to exploit his position for gathering extensive data of their condition, and saved a copy of all documentation by the other guards. Han Refur has put it his first priority to be present in person at all questionings", she laid out their actions, "As to give the Chancellor first-hand-informations about results."

The Captain allowed himself the pause of two deep breaths to take those informations in. "Anything else we can help you with?"

"My science officer, Ensign Víehro, proposed the idea that we would leak our findings, proof that the government is not responsible for the prisoner's appearance at best, to the local public", she added. "I had to withdraw him from acting position, he's been busy with preliminary analysis of the data Han Refur gave us. I did not ask Starfleet to evaluate my assessment of this interference as a violation to the Prime Directive", she voiced Picard thoughts, "But I'd be glad if you could involve him in your research. His work's of moderate use in the field, but considering our limited capabilities, he must have put a real effort in it. He's been reliable and remained loyal, I'd hate to see him bury his career over this mission."

"I'm sure Mr Data and my CMO, Dr. Crusher, will assign him suitable tasks", Picard agreed vaguely, as he would first get to know this Ensign better before adding another liability to their situation. "I would like to say, I fully agree with your decision to exercise caution and restraint here. The development of the Loralians would be compromised by such interference. The Prime Directive does now allow us to be involved..."

In an out-of-character motion, she cut across him. "Captain, with all due respect, but we are involved pretty damn deep in this mess! Question is, how do we get out _without_ setting the population at each other's throats!"

* * *

_She has a point_, Picard decided, and let the outburst pass uncommented. "You said that the Loralians were officially incapable of warp drive?"

"Yes, Captain", she calmed down visibly, "We've encountered inconclusive readings. That is, Ensign Viehro has."

"Inconclusive?", Data repeated, last syllable in a lighter tone of voice, using what Picard recognized as a standard technique the android must have learned from Troi. _Signals that one has been listening, without providing framing or interpretation._

It worked perfectly with Jurill. "The Loralian's theoretical knowledge has long advanced beyond the point of exercising warp-capability", she explained. "In fact, it's standard Federation requirement of actually _using_ warp-drive that's prevented us from engaging in a first contact. Science departments here in what's similar to university are actually discussing ways of navigation in space."

"How do you know that?", Data inquired.

"I've had another officer placed in a suitable position", she told them, "But he got caught saving us the material, lost his job there, and was reassigned to a starship, as Starfleet saw no use in keeping another security officer down here."

Picard saved the question whether she shared that opinion for some later talks. The topic seemed appropriate, however, to navigate into rougher and darker waters. "It has come to my attention", he phrased it neutrally, "That there have been certain … incoherences when it comes to administrative decisions regarding the populations expression of free speech and open gatherings", he paved the way for what he could not avoid to address, "As to whether there has been interference from the Federation already."

The temperature in the room had dropped about ten degrees. "Which might be, for example?"

"I've read your report and it said that the conflict between government and the opposing Alliance escalated after an outbreak of frustration among ordinary citizens, supportive to the Alliance's cause. It was violently beaten down by the military on grounds of not being orchestrated properly in advance, as required by local law. Yet you have proven in your documentation that the demonstration _was_ very well approved. One might assume that the local military leader acted in accordance with local authorities' policies." Picard leaned forward, lowered his voice and braced for impact. "We discussed that an approval, one that has come easily into your hands, might be the result of a stranger motivation than adherence to the local administration."

Literally, Picard had not accused Jurill of anything. Yet the Lieutenant Commander was very well familiar with insinuations, hints and metaphoric statements. "I assure you, Captain", Jurill answered, her tone scratching in their ears, "That my officer's are complying to their orders and their conscience, and to the principles on which the Federation is based."

"As do we all", the Captain tried to maneuver the conversation from these icy depths. "Lieutenant Commander Jurill", calling her by rank was meant to express his respect, "I know it sounded awkward and unlikely, but I had to ask. Your service record has been exemplary, and I have no reason to question your judgement or your word any further." He saw Jurill's nose wrinkles broaden slightly, and Troi seat herself in a more relaxed position, which she never did unintentionally during such talks.

"Then the next logical step would be to transfer all available data to the Enterprise", the Bajoran woman said, "And meet again when Lieutenant Pagok's meets his mother next time."

"Agreed", Picard confirmed her lead. He felt sure that they would talk before that, but for the moment, suggesting continued exchange would have pushed her further away. "I'll offer Ensign Viehro an appointment at the Enterprise. I'm sure he can provide us with noteworthy assistance."

"Again, agreed", Jurill mirrored his expression, which he considered a sign that the ice between them had started to melt. "He's been a little frustrated down here, Captain. Ops is his favorite field to engage in, but he has great analytic potential as well." She waited until Picard had risen from his seat. Not necessarily a sign of restored mutual friendship, but an accommodation to his superior rank.

"If you have any questions, the Enterprise will stay in orbit. If you need anything, contact us", Picard shook hands with her again, then Troi and Data.

"I'll bear that in mind, Captain", she assured him, "Thank you for your time."

"Thank you for yours", he replied and meant it, "Enterprise, three to beam up."

"Worf here, Sir. Acknowledged."

"Engage."


	6. Perspective & Potential

"Now that's a great situation", Riker summed up dryly. "If we don't order Lieutenant Pagok back from the mission, he might get killed and found out by the local rebels. If we do, the government will think the rebels assassinated him." They had no curious ears to regard in Picard's ready room, so the First Officer stirred no unrest with his statement. "Is there any possibility that we can influence the perception of a disappearance, in case we have no other option to withdraw him from the operation?"

"Not without violating the Prime Directive, I'm afraid. Our topmost priority must be to keep our interference to a minimum", Picard emphasized, "It's ironic. Lieutenant Commander Jurill has done such a good job in conducting this operation that we cannot even back away from it without compromising its aims."

"Maintaining a secure exit is part of exemplary leadership." Riker chose his words carefully. He did not directly criticize Jurill's approach. "And one can never be sure of an observation leading to anything. Least of the event most hoped for, monitoring their first warp-driven expedition."

"The political situation was stable enough for quite a long time, so that her expectation, it would stay that way, was perfectly warranted", Picard disagreed. "And I don't remember any long-time covert mission to take such a bad turn. Not if the civilization was already capable of warp-drive, even if not using it."

"That strikes me as odd", his Second-in-command admitted. "Why the heck would they develop that technology and not use it? They're a money-based society, as I recall, an investment of that magnitude surely needs to pay off at _some_ time?"

"I don't understand it either, Number One. But as soon as we have access to the Chancellor via his secretary, we will pose the question explicitly. I can justify that, as they must have based that decision on past developments, and would be repeating a discourse to whoever is asking", Picard explained. "It's as far as I'm sure how the Prime Directive is _not_ compromised here."

They let silence hang between them, each pondering in thoughts.

"Dr Crusher informed me that she has tied up any residual injuries from the Montagnier's crew, and ascribes, quote, 'treatment only a good shrink can provide', unquote, which Deanna has taken up on already", Riker reported after a while.

_He calls Troi by first name when she's absent,_ Picard noticed. _So they're closer than usual._

"Worf has transferred the data from Loral to sickbay, but Dr Selar is on duty", Riker went on, oblivious to his superior's observation, "She handed me request for a midwife with interstellar experience, training units for all paramedic staff for dealing with reclusive species and an empath with medical skills."

"Sounds like a rough night."

"She _was_ pretty cranky when I notified her on the assignment to look into what they gathered on the surface", the First Officer confirmed, "Said that she'd get to it ASAP."

"Request is noted."

_I'll hardly acquire suitable officers_, Picard thought, and resisted from translating 'ASAP' from Crusher in what he knew it really meant: _Call me again when someone hangs between life and death, lesser injuries do _not _count as 'emergency' and thus do _not _require my attention at once._

"Then I'll have time to meet Ensign Viehro", was the only part of his thoughts Picard actually spoke.

"That's something I wanted to discuss with you", Riker came around, "And Worf as well."

Introducing the name of his chief of security gave Picard a faint idea of where this conversation was heading to.

"We - that is: Worf and I – agree that it would be sensible to restrict Ensign Viehro's access while he's aboard", the First Officer met the Captain's expectations, "As he has shown a behavior that suggests him having … issues with a straightforward implementation of the Prime Directive."

"I won't throw an Ensign in the brig for suggesting a course of action that should maintain political stability", Picard stated firmly. "However misplaced it was under these circumstances."

"Lieutenant Commander Jurill has called him back from his position. She would not have done so if she did not assess him a security risk."

"And as much respect as she's earned from me with her leadership, I won't judge officers by the decisions their superiors subjected them to", the Captain slapped down the objection. "Ensign Viehro has offered the proposal of an alternate course of action, Commander. He got rejected and followed his orders. He might one day make a good First Officer."

Riker could not help himself but smile. "One day, maybe."

"He deserves a second chance, and to be part of this mission. Please notify Lieutenant Commander Jurill that the Ensign is expected at fourteen hundred hours in my ready room."

"Aye, Sir."

"Dismissed."


	7. Rule of Thumb

Whenever duty permitted the android to feed his cat, he fulfilled that obligation with all due commitment. He felt no delight or happiness from it, but the behavior patterns of Spot suggested that she purred of satisfaction.

LaForge had started on their task already. Quite in contrast to his expectations, Data found his friend frustrated at a beacon behind the wide windows allowing to watch the warp core.

"Judging from your overall body language and facial expressions, you have been unsuccessful." Data included facial expressions despite most other crewmembers found it difficult to decipher LaForge's mimics due to the VISOR. Yet it was very well within the androids visual parameters to identify significant positions of the engineer's eyebrows.

"Indeed, Data", the LaForge confirmed his observation. Fingers drumming on the edge of the beacon, he laid out: "I've subjected our data to the usual analytic tools: Fibonacci, Prime Numbers, even the advanced stuff of Schroedinger's and Heisenberg's."

"They have developed warp drive, so a sophisticated analysis is perfectly legit."

"Yes, and in vain", the engineer summed up his results. "I've taken a look into research this Ensign Vigo -"

"Ensign Viehro."

"... Ensign Viehro provided us with. No wonder his commanding officer saw no use in it for anything, but his chronic of the Alliance comes in handy."

"You're suggesting that if there is no pattern recognizable in the Alliance's movements, then we might find something in their history?"

"Their story probably means a lot to them", LaForge delineated, "They're not even an acknowledged minority, if I recall correctly. So all they derive their sense of identity from are their experiences as a group, their leaders, some other institutions of authority. Rituals in their daily routine. Commitment to the group on, let's say, the anniversary of their first attack on the 'oppressors' would mean a lot to them."

"A valid proposal."

"Great that you approve", LaForge turned back to the beacon. "Computer, cross-reference the data from Ensign Viehro's report with all known acts of violence of the focused group."

"Analysis is in progress", the disembodied voice answered.

"Computer, how long until the analysis is finished?"

"One hour, twenty three minutes."

"Well, I'll check in on the Montagnier's engine log in the meantime", the engineer announced, more to himself than to Data.

"Can I provide you with any assistance, Geordi?"

"I've set up for a level three diagnostic of the Montagnier, you could take over the reconstruction of their energy distribution system, it's unlike anything I've ever seen. Maybe we can adapt the conversion process to the Enterprise."

"I'm on it", Data used a standard expression from human officers. From the android it sounded as colloquial as expressions heard in Ten Forward.

Time passed, measured only by the soft, regular sound of the warp core behind them.

"What do you think, Data: Are we dealing with just another group of terrorists, who've abandoned all hope for a peaceful settlement, and resorted to violence? Or is there more to it than that?"

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand your question."

"I'm wondering if... well, my gut tells me, we've arrived at just the right time."

"We've taken standard orbit with only twenty-two minutes of delay after responding to the Montagnier's distress call."

"That's not what I mean", LaForge used the expression repeatedly with Data, if for much lesser times since Data's promotion to Commander, "I can't pin it down. Something's different about them."

"May I remind you, Geordi, that the statement 'something's different' cannot be scientifically verified."

"No, it can't", LaForge grinned involuntarily, "Perhaps I'm ascribing a deeper meaning to it to avoid a sense of repetition."

"Are you saying that you are bored by this procedure?", Data inquired.

_He _has_ come a long way, _the engineer caught himself thinking_, two years ago, he'd never have interpreted such a statement as possible insinuation._ "No, that's not what I meant", LaForge contradicted.

"So what specifically strikes you as odd?"

The engineer took his time to choose the right words. "Well, in any other cases we encountered someone claimed responsibility, however unwarranted", he finally laid out, "Not here. Ensign Viehro's chronic connects most recent attacks – two murders of high officals, even – to increased pressure on the government to reach an acceptable solution. If I were a member of the Alliance, or their leader, I'd celebrate this as a victory. Or at least an achievement."

Data did not respond at once, checking LaForge's thesis against his wide knowledge. "You have a point, Commander", he stated. "There are two comparable constellations on record. Both times the acts of violence came from a single individual and had not impact on the macro-societal level as the negotiations had led to a mutual agreement, which was either a stalemate or complete surrender and disarmament."

"And my gut tells me, the more ferocious violence occurred from the constellation with complete surrender."

"You are correct", the android confirmed, "On Helkut IV, a member of the local subaltern movement killed thirty-six civilians in an-"

"Thank you, Data, I get it."

"So your gut's provided you with an if not valid, at least reliable – I guess the term is 'rule of thumb'?"

"Exactly", LaForge's grin spread even wider.

"I would advise you to report your observation to the Captain. This could lead to a better understanding of the motives of those involved."

"I'll include it in my report", the engineer promised, "So far, it's hardly such important news as to call him down here."

"I agree."

"Then let's get on with this distribution system, Data", LaForge reminded them of their primary task, "These specifications in compensators between the phase shifting conduct units look all greek to me..."


	8. Untangling the Strings

The bridge played host to the familiar tight hair bun of Ensign Matthews at helm and an older human at navigation, whom Picard recognized as exchange officer from the USS Curie. Worf maintained position at tactical, facing the beacons at the back of the bridge, arms crossed in front of the broad chest. His statue probably only served as a symbol for vigilant observance, as Troi was leaning so close to Riker that the Klingon could not have read anything on the screen Riker was working at.

Picard took his steps in a deliberately slow manner, giving the two time to reconvene at a less intimate distance. "Report, Number One."

"Lieutenant Commander Jurill has submitted another request", Riker answered, "She's asked to discuss operation patterns in case an intervention becomes unavoidable. She'd like to come aboard."

"I'll escort her from transporter room 2."

"Aye, Sir." The first officer conveyed the message to the officer on duty, then turned to Picard again.

"What have you found out?", Picard inquired.

"Media transmissions celebrate Chancellor Nopurga's renewal of the invitation for continued talks", Riker summed up his research, "Comments are widely dispersed, ranging from downright hostile against Alliance's claims to moderate views, expressing sympathy for their cause. The Alliance's Leader, a Lyane Febrell, has agreed to meet in 'neutral space' - heavy emphasis on the quotation marks here-, which is currently set up. Chancellor Nopurga has made great commitments to her choice of a meeting point, and got heavily criticized for that."

"She claims to have spoken with her most loyal advisors and suggested to a facility similar to the prison Lieutenant Pagok's currently posted at", Troi added, "Main difference is, however, that her predecessor, Poran Bekhan, got incarcerated there thirteen years previously, and died of torture from the hands of the former Chief of Internal Security. It's a position reporting directly to the Chancellor. This far, only military personnel has risen to it. The prison got closed after the incident, it's nowadays empty."

"How long has Nopurga been holding office?"

"Six years, it's his second term", Riker answered. "He followed an interim statesmen after the Chancellor responsible for Poran Bekhan's death stepped down. Reception was, he decided to leave after he had forced his Chief of Security to clean his desk, and feared a coup d'état."

"So Nopurga is meeting with the heir of a leader who died from government's hands, at the prison where he was murdered?", Picard concluded.

"Over the intense protest of his Chief of Security", Riker said. "But yes, that's how they're planning to proceed."

I'd also want to raise a few objections to that procedure, if I were responsible for the Chancellor's safety, Picard admitted quietly. "Any reliable information about whether Nopurga might be a target of the Alliance's revenge?"

"The choice of their meeting point would suggest so", Troi agreed, "but there's been not threat issued against his life of that of other participants. On the contrary, Febrell guarantees them safe passage."

"She's kept her word in those matters so far", Riker correctly anticipated Picard's next question.

"Which is remarkable", Deanna commented, "As they're currently entering negotiations without a ceasefire during the process."

"Febrell's accepting victims on the street through the Alliance's actions, but shields harm from their elected officials?", Picard voiced in surprise. "A rather uncommon strategy from a subaltern group."

"Indeed", Riker confirmed. "One would think it would set their follower's on edge. Showing greater respect to the oppressors than their own origins and supporters among the public, I'd also expect something like that."

"We should take into account, Captain", Troi advised, "That it takes a special mindset to propose a prison as 'neutral space'."

"Please elaborate, Counsellor."

"'Neutral' can, in this context, translated into 'at the same level', even 'balanced' concerning the distribution of power", she explained, "Question is, what sources the Alliance or their leader Febrell do they derive their power, or perception of power from. The choice for meeting with Nopurga in an arena of former humiliation, the forced stripping of rights without any chance for appeal indicates ultimate desperation among the Alliance. Nopurga is supposed to see their suffering, and acknowledge their loss of a father figure, a symbol of hope. Holding a meeting there displays a deep rooted sense of self-confidence, even comfort."

"What are you suggesting, Deanna?"

"We're probably dealing with someone who has grown up in the movement", she stated, "Her identity is woven neatly with the Alliance's cause."

"So she's willing to go greater lengths than her predecessor, how could that be dangerous?", Riker demanded to know.

"I see, Counsellor", Picard caught up, "She's less accessible to corruption, but progress might depend more on her developing some other identity as the Alliance's leader than objective ongoings and offers of compromise by Nopurga."

"Exactly, Captain", Troi confirmed.

"I shall take it under advisement", Picard assured her. "Number One, in case Febrell's guarantees prove unreliable, how would you evaluate the chance that this compromises Lieutenant Pagok's safety?"

"A hundred and ten percent", Riker answered flatly. "If the Chancellor falls victim to an assassination attempt, even a failed one, prisoner's will be the first to suffer, and what better leverage against that than taking his secretary as hostage." It was not a question. "I recommend him to be withdrawn at the earliest signs of trouble between Nopurga and Febrell. We _have_ to get him out of this mess."

"Recommendation is noted", Picard said. "When will they be due for talks to begin?"

"They' claim to have chosen Poran Bekhan's exact date of birth", Riker replied, "Tomorrow, at eleven fourteen standard federation time, with Loral's sun in zenith position."

"Thank you, Commander. I'll talk to Lieutenant Commander Jurill. You have the bridge."


	9. Loose Fit

"Captain's Log, supplemental.

The Enterprise has arrived at Loral II and is currently in standard orbit. Lieutenant Commander Jurill's request of assistance has proven an understatement if I ever encountered one. Commander Riker has made it his obligation to monitor official and inofficial channels in order to establish a reasoned diagnosis of Lieutenant Pagok's security status. The principle of strict noninterference currently prevents us from placing an operative on the surface."

Yet again, the Captain hesitated in search for an adequate expression. "I am weighing our duty to protect an officer with all available means, who has performed his function outstandingly, against the perspective of usurping a people's right to self-determination whether to get in contact with alien races in case we disguised our presence. So far, the situation is still open to a compromise."

_Though I have no idea what it might possibly look like_, Picard concluded the entry silently, but left his doubts out of the official record.

The doorbell chimmed. A quick glance at the chronometer told him that he must have been brooding over the log entry much longer than estimated. Ensign Viehro was perfectly punctual.

"Come in."

The barrier slipped apart in the middle to reveal a tall humanoid in familiar red uniform. In the dark, Ensign Viehro could hardly be told from Lieutenant Worf, giving a similar intense impression with his tall statue, broad shoulders and muscles. As he stepped out from the doorframe, Picard noticed he had much finer features: Low cheekbones beneath a slim, flat forehead made him appear a straightforward character, smooth against any aggressive action. The broad, pointed nose ruined a potentially very attractive look, and his jaw only escaped the label of feminine due to his beard.

In a crowd or in the corridors, Picard would never recognize him without a memorable incident.

"My commanding officer, Lieutenant Commander Jurill, informed me that my presence would be required at fourteen hundred hours in your ready room, Captain."

"Yes, Ensign. At ease. Please take a seat." Viehro had probably used the exact wording of Jurill's message, which he read as a defensive, impersonal behavior. "Would you like something to drink?"

"No, Sir, thank you."

Sometimes getting up, fetching oneself a tea allowed a person to grow comfortable in the setting. However, when Picard lowered himself back in his chair, placing the tea in front of him, Viehro seemed unchanged. No line had appeared between his brows, but he sat quiet straight on the chair, arms laid in his lap. If it had not been for basic training in body language they subject cadets to, he's have them crossed before his chest.

"I hear this is your first assignment to a Federation outpost."

"Yes, Captain."

"Then you must have applied for it explicitly. Starfleet usually puts young officers on a starship."

"I did, Sir."

_He's adequately polite and below the line of stubbornness, _Picard thought. He knew this approach all too well from himself: _Endure the conversation, control your temper, get out as soon as etiquette permits._

"What was your motivation to ask for such an assignment?" The Captain had, of course, read the official version in Viehro's personal file, but having his wish fulfilled and probably asked the same question for the first time since that fulfillment might make him answer a little more honestly than on the record.

"A teacher at the Academy recommended it, Sir. She said it would give me dedication and persistence."

"Did she tell you that you had yet to acquire these qualities?"

"No, Sir", Viehro replied, and left it at that. Picard felt an urge to inquire on the matter further, as he would have given the very same answer to a superior.

"Your file does not read like that", the Captain exaggerated, "You completed additional medical training as a sophomore at the Academy. Seems like an appropriate amount of dedication to me."

"Thank you, Sir." A smile, slim and not stretching up to his eyes.

"Few cadets make use of the Academy's broad offer of courses and trainings", Picard went on, carefully phrasing his sentence as open for interpretation, "Yet one never again gets access to such a variety of knowledge, even wisdom, all too soon." He refrained from boasting of the ship only because he'd then have a hard time listening to himself.

"The teachers often assign additional courses to students whom they consider weak in their academic performance, unreliable, instable characters or all of it", Viehro stated painfully neutral, "Having to take extra hours is, in essential, a humiliation."

_A rather useful method,_ Picard acknowledged silently, _if students don't perceive it in precisely this way. _Viehro showed no obvious signs of discontent or shame, but raised Picard's awareness that he had no empathic abilities.

_Maybe provocation shoves him out of the shell._ "Academy policy is to prepare their students to the best of their abilities for any hostile, aggressive, unpredictable species they may encounter", he commented in an insufferable patient, fatherly manner. "You applied for a posting on a starbase rather early in your career." Now, if he placed the needle precisely enough... "Such remote assignments usually exceed young officer's capabilities."

Much to Picards disappointment, Viehro acted according to his reclusive habit. "I hope my performance has proven otherwise."

The Captain decided a pause might stir some uncertainty in Viehro, and drank up half his glass of tea. Once again, he felt empathic abilities amiss.

"Your record suggests", the Captain attempted a new course, "That you could become a good officer one day. Perhaps even in command." A perspective of power offered a perspective of regaining control, Picard applied his tactics. _If I have shaken him up at all, I'll know soon_.

"With all due respect Sir, my current assignment does not warrant such speculations", Viehro called the bluff.

"I disagree, Ensign", the Captain, honest with him again. "What do you think, how would your commanding officers", intentionally plural form here, "regard your performance?"

A long, uncomfortable silence. Then: "Permission to speak freely, Captain."

_One always has to handle this question with utmost care_, Picard knew. Some gained due confidence from speaking freely, others leaped to recklessness.

"Permission granted, Ensign."

"Jurill might be a knack at tactics and with people, but she can't hold a tricorder", Viehro snapped, proving to be of the latter type. "She threw me in the brig of the outpost, and I tried to make the best of it-"

This one has memorized Academy's empty phrases: 'I've made the best of it' might put him through questions of his attitude, but they never proved a differential judgement or strength of character.

"And the best, under these circumstances -"

_Another excuse_, shot through Picard's mind.

"Appeared to dedicate myself to research, which has led to the chronic your staff has placed at its disposal."

_Well, good communication skills, I'll grant him that_, Picard commented quietly. Referring to recommendations from a teacher after I asked him for it must leave a great impression with other commanders.

The Captain emptied his glass of tea. "Ensign, it was very well possible to request another transfer", he said, careful not to let anger creep into his voice.

"And I did."

"Your record doesn't say so."

"I don't care."

_A sentence which always makes an officer appear unreflected and immature, and you should be aware of that by now._ "There is no such record saved in your files", Picard replied calmly, "Perhaps I should have a look at the outpost's subspace transmission log, in case it got lost in space." He could count how often that had happened during his service in Starfleet, manually, and without need of both his hands.

"If you wish, Captain." Viehros unexpected politeness almost pushed him over the edge.

"I do, Ensign. You did not answer my question. I did not ask you for your evaluation of your superior's performance."

"Lieutenant Commander Jurill probably recommended me for a Court Martial for engaging in discussions with her about how to proceed, Sir", Viehro replied.

"I assure you, Ensign, that's the last option on her mind." Picard had just broken one vital rule for evaluating an officer's performance: Talk to him and discuss your findings with the commanding officer _first_ before you allow any information to trickle through. Yet Ensign Viehro's estimation could not pass without proper refraiming, the Captain decided. _I can't allow him to carry out his duty if he's so much mistaken about his work being despised, he'd loose all motivation._ "At our first meeting, she explicitly recommended to transfer responsibility to you during our mission on Loral II. She states that you remained reliable and loyal to the Federations course and deserve a more challenging assignment."

"She has?" The words had triggered a surprised reaction, as expected.

"Yes, Ensign, Lieutenant Commander Jurill spoke rather highly of you." The younger officer's brows rose even further. "And I was inclined to follow her recommendation, but I'll be honest with you. I am currently uncertain whether you would pose a greater liability to this mission than an asset."

Viehro's expression was leaden, but his body betrayed him: Picard saw his adam's apple move distinctly.

"I'm assigning you to sickbay, as my CMO is short on staff right now", the Captain ordered him, "You'll report to Dr Crusher at nineteen hundred hours tonight. I'll inform her of your qualifications."

"Aye, Sir."

Ensign Viehro might be hot-headed and potentially manipulative, but he was not stupid. _I'll inform her of your qualifications_ must have sounded like _I'll give her a rough evaluation of your character_ in his ears, at least that was the message Picard aimed to convey to him. The Captain had not set the timing without ulterior motive: An hour prior to his posting duty shifts would end, so the Ensign had slim chance of establishing any other social contact aboard than to Dr. Crusher. Until then, five hours nudged him to digest their exchange.

"Dismissed."


	10. Gross Roots

The Captain first headed back to his quarters, wondering how much Jurill would add to their knowledge and what her assessment of Enisgn Viehro would be. He discovered crumbles of a croissant he had left for Crusher in the replicator this morning. _Someone must have seen her come in here, using her entrance codes, _he thought,_ and someone else saw her leave. No wonder half the crew thinks I'm sleeping with her._

On an again clean desk minutes later he quickly read through Lieutenant Commander Jurills and Ensign Viehro's personal files again, filling most of the gaps in his memory, but provocating a considerable amount of new questions. A short research in the computer's data also told him that Starfleet had indeed transferred another officer from the starbase: Lieutenant Kathym had been posted on the Klingon vessel Hen'tok. Record said that the half-Vulcan had applied for an exchange program in during his times at the Academy, been forgotten on the waiting list and been offered the vacant position. _I always wondered how they punish you if one's accused of an unprovable court-martial offence_, the Captain frowned, _and this is probably the harshest treatment they came up with._ Only the most stubborn Vulcan would not suffer among the Klingon passion and constant agitation. As he read further into it, a familiar set of names regarding his teachers and instructors at the Academy appeared. Picard assigned the computer a cross-reference of his records and those of Ensign Viehro, and had his hunch confirmed: Viehro and Kathym had been led through their Academy years by the same team of mentors, with a group of students in the cycle between both periods. _So they probably had a lot to talk and laugh about_, the Captain mused. _A great relief for an Ensign so young and far from home._

Much more concerning his specific interest in the matter was, Picard read at the end of Kathym's file, that Lieutenant Commander Jurill had explicitly advised against, then later objected his reassignment, but also had been ordered not to discuss her contradictory position with 'any Starfleet personnel other than those concerned with Lieutenant Kathym's transfer'. _Well, someone remembers their field experience_, Picard thought, perfectly aware of how quickly one forgot about their role and formed inadequate relationships at remote edges of Federation space.

He made mental note with the most urgent questions to ask Jurill, stored the padds with Jurill's and Viehro's files in his desk and then made his way to transporter room Two.

When a few officers strode by casually, greeting him short and friendly, Picard felt all the more aware of how times had changed in the Federation, and with it it's customs. No one of them was obliged to stop on sight of him as a superior officer, let alone salute. They all knew those old ways, as Picard made use of the ancient protocols on rare occasions: Then his personnel came to a halt and performed this empty ritual perfectly reliable, which never failed to impress a striving-for-power-general, disguising his ambition holding office as an ambassador, or high ranking diplomats with their roots in military forces.

Ensign Wox was on duty in the transporter room and exercised the operation smoothly.

"Pleasure to meet you again, Captain."

Jurill stepped down form the platform and greeted him in human custom as before. Her handshake was as dry as before, but cooler this time.

"The pleasure is mine, Lieutenant Commander."

"Thank you for agreeing to see me so soon, Captain. I know you must have other things to worry about." She was not just being polite or flattering him, but the fine line over her nostril wrinkles indicated that she meant it.

"I was looking forward to discussions with someone who has served so long aboard the _Melbourne_", he said, and brought his invitation carefully on the way, so that she could decline politely if she wanted: "I heard you were a straightforward, loyal officer", important not to address her as a woman here, "so probably your sense of duty prevents you from sharing your experiences on board another vessel with me."

"Oh, they are a Federation ship as well, if I recall correctly", she said dryly, "Besides, three and a half years on an outpost I've neglected my discipline when it comes to an impervious line between sections of all kind, part of it deliberately."

"It's easier to maintain a formal distance on larger vessels", Picard caught up, "Allows one a great deal of anonymity. Lesser presence then also means less intense impression on each other."

"They taught us that at the Academy already, but I never quite understood the dynamics until I got posted out here."

"Would you care to discuss the matter further over another cup of tea?"

"I'd be glad."

She was an uncomplicated person to talk to, he discovered on their way, yet neither undifferentiated nor too casual. He led her the long way trough the saucer section to give her enough time so watch several officers n the corridor enter Ten Forward several meters in front of them, so that he could derive from her reaction whether she considered the location appropriate for their discussion. Of course, him being the Captain of the vessel, it would have provoked curious glances, if he had the tables next to them kept empty, but one chose their words more carefully if people were only watching. To his relief, Jurill seemed to harbor a similar perception of an adequate setting, and passed by the doors. In his quarters, she chose the long glass table at which he usually fought through the documentation, but took a seat next to the chair at the top. He served her a white tea with a note of peach and got himself another Earl Grey. Their exchange trickled softly between them, until Picard felt safe enough to explore more unchartered waters.

"... he has his reputation, he's aware of that", Jurill confirmed his speculations about Halloway's style of leadership, "But officer's exaggerate a great deal here, if I may say so. He's exercising a pragmatic approach", the Bajoran stated, watching his mimics, "Which is _not_ an insinuation that he evades the abstract implications of a mission, if I may say so."

"It _is_ a cliché", Picard said over an almost invisible smile.

"And not entirely unjustified", she agreed. "But with him, pragmatics include a straightforward, uncomplicated communication, with everyone ending up knowing exactly what the shared objectives are. If you're called to a briefing, you're told what to to. It's not a discussion then, but no one pretends it to be one, unlike they do at the Academy. I always got unnerved by their politeness. You never know what to expect."

"How so?", he inquired. A friendly attitude in general was usually welcomed by most cadets, as he recalled from rare subspace conversations with Wesley Crusher.

"On Bajor, roles are set", she explained, "We Bajorans put great efforts to anticipating our -", she hesitated, well aware from her annually evaluations with a psychologically skilled counselor that the next phrase would submit her to a double evaluation: One regarding her view of superiors, another one of her self-concept in inferior positions. "...anticipating our captors motives and expectations", she finished her sentence, "Straight into the Academy, a friendly face giving instructions gave me chills. If the one giving orders to you is not of your own kind, but another race, and won't have mercy with you or any interest in your prosperity", careful choice of words here, he noted, "Then receiving orders with from a friendly face gives you chills. With Starfleet, a smile usually is supposed to convey warmth, a basically comfortable atmosphere in contrast to the words, but the message never falls apart: It says, 'we're on the same side', and it's one's position that allows one to give orders. With Cardassians, a smile means that your captor already got lost in a despicable fantasy of how he'll _make_ you comply with his orders."

"Then it must have taken you a while to adapt to that patterns of communication."

"To be honest, yes, Captain, it did", Jurill admitted, lowering her gaze for the first time in their conversation. Combined with the short pressing of her lips against one another, Picard hypothesized that she was probably opening up about this for the first time. "It was a quiet process, which happened probably unnoticed by my mentors", she went on, "I had no difficulty to comply with orders, or exercise a minimum of discipline in punctuality and physics. Perhaps they regarded me as coward, or overly conformist, or both."

"Perhaps even more mature than your fellow students, if you fit in so smoothly." He had not intended to apply a supportive tactic in this discussion, yet he felt pretty sure that Deanna Troi would have said something rather similar in response.

"If I had residual effects of my upbringing lingering when I got out of the Academy, the time on the Melbourne ironed them out", Jurill stirred the conversation back to its original topic, "This pragmatism I mentioned means, everyone gets to know exactly what they _need_ to know to fulfill their obligations, not more or less", she delineated. "Roles are exercised precisely as they teach you. If you make a mistake, someone senior will order you to additional training; if you show signs of progress and keep learning, you'll have a second session, and so on. In contrast to the basic attitude here, I heard", she changed the subject, giving him a stern and discriminating look. _A good technique to avoid an open comment on my style of leadership_, Picard thought, _by attribution on the personnel._

"So what is the current word of mouth regarding the attitude of my officer's?", he inquired. Commander Riker or Crusher, maybe Counselor Troi as well, would have called his bluff, as Picard was bothered by rumors at an absolute minimum. Yet sailing under the cloth of false attribution allowed him to engage in conversation and explore the deeper hidden aspects.

"Well, officers on the Enterprise would probably monitor their own capabilities and skills", she speculated, "On the Melbourne, training is assigned to you. If Captain Halloway received orders for a mission, he and his First Officer would sit together over crew files and evaluate the profiles of officers in the addressed departments. If you had no training concerning an important skill, you'd be notified to report in for practice", she told him, and Picard felt the missing piece of a puzzle slide into its place: This practice by Halloway would bereave officers of the perceived shaming from additional training.

"Here, on the Enterprise, a class or a training would be held by an expert in whatever skills required, and on their own initiative", Jurill hypothesized, inadvertently correct. "With Captain Halloway it's a by-the-book business, with no interpretation adding or withholding anything of importance from you. He runs the vessel traditionally, even conservatively, in the best possible way."

_Time to shift the course_, Picard decided. "An approach you implemented in your first command on Loral."

"At first, getting a tight grip on the team made me almost despise myself", she admitted. "When we were still setting up the laboratory, an Ensign considered it necessary to program environmental scanners according to his liking instead of standard levels. Later he admitted, the dash'ben and Majurons had annoyed him – small wild animals, comparable to cats and squirrels, but no fur -, so he dialed down the sensitivity. Children from a local village got lost in the cave and ran into a force field, suffering severe burns, whereas the force field would not have reacted to them with standard energy levels in action. Parents assumed that they lied about attempting to light a fire in the forest, and organized a search for it. We had to strip the station off everything. Commander Be'Nor, who provided assistance from Deep Space Two, ordered the mountain range to be fired at with phasers until it caved in. I requested a transfer for the Lieutenant responsible. "

An adequate suggestion, Picard thought, quite as one would expect from a capable commander. "Do you know what happened to the Lieutenant?"

"Oh, he was called to a new assignment the very same day", Jurill replied in a thin, stingy voice, "Some project to analyze the components of engineered botanics on Celarus X, with a time frame of eight years. Rumor has it, he only escaped a Court Martial because he graduated as the best in his class, and the Admiral put in a good word for him."

_Better not to comment on that,_ Picard thought. "You never get used to severe disciplinary action." _An open, non-committal sentence, allowing a wide range of receptions might make her open up._

The Lieutenant Commander stuck with their subject. "I was harsh with my staff", she said, "I punished lack of discipline at once, cutting permission to visit the surface whenever officers were lazy or superficial. It's a process, that's what I had to be aware of, I learned. Some time after an intervention most officers comply too strictly to the rules. It takes months until you can handle the situation with a responsible casualness."

"I find it helpful to monitor the requests for a transfer, and the officer's reasoning for it", a deeply impressed Picard pulled the steering wheel, "Provides me with an indication of whether expectations are so high as an officer sees no possibility to fulfill them in the foreseeable future."

"That might serve as a valid method for me as well", she agreed. "Thank you, Captain."

Again, Picard felt sure about her being honest, not overly obedient or trying to ingratiate herself. If she would not allow him to lure her into a topics of the conversation he chose, she might yet handle an open confrontation. "Ensign Viehro did not take it well to be assigned a research position."

"He told you so." The Lieutenant Commander emptied her cup in one gulp.

"Out science officer could examine his statement, if you'd like him to", Picard replied, careful not to reveal his position.

"Don't bother, Captain, it's true", she confirmed the Captain's assumption, "He handed in his request the morning after Lieutenant Kathym's transference to the Hen'tok. Provided some self-righteous reasons – or, rationalizations, more accurately – that they had been so close and supporting each other long before graduation, and he, Viehro, considered himself unable to fulfill the obligations of an officer without him. He told me he had thought of quitting his duty entirely, but then decided to dial it down to request a transfer, since he had served with no one else so far and wanted to give Starfleet a second chance."

"Did he tell you that in person?"

"Yes, Sir. I had expected..." Jurill backed away in the midst of her sentence, but realized she couldn't take her words back. "I had expected he'd ask permission to speak his mind and shout out all his anger at me."

"He did not do so?", Picard inquired, now that she had stepped through the door.

"No, he did not. He just added some remarks to his request. Nothing of relevance."

"It must have been relevant to him", the Captain heard himself say, quite in accordance with his usual approach to conflict, and in great surprise to him. _It's been less than two hours since I bothered to remain unbiased to the Ensign._

"Maybe your Counselor can make some use of his dwellings on the matter, but I heard nothing which demanded further action as his superior officer from me", the Bajoran declared the matter closed. "I'm not a mother to my officers, a friend and not a therapist. I am responsible for the success of this mission, and I demand loyalty and dedication to this goal from my officers."

_If we make it out of this without unforeseen difficulties, she'll one day be a great Captain. Not liked much by her crew, but trusted and respected._ Picard took another sip of his tea before getting back to less personal matters.


	11. The Legacy

"My science officer informs me that the research Ensign Viehro has conducted provides us with information that allow us a deeper understanding into the rebel's demands", he changed the subject, despite unwilling to omit at least some appreciation on the way. "The meeting of their leader has been scheduled for tomorrow. A Lyane Febrell will meet with Chancellor Nopurga in an abandoned prison. What can you tell me about her?"

"Among the rebels, she's known as their messiah's daughter", Jurill stated, confirming Troi's earlier hypothesis. "Lieutenant Pagok reported that this does not express some made-up symbolical connection, but indeed refers to her origins. He was able to retrieve an official recording that validates her ancestry. Poran Bekhan was never married to her mother, but had himself recorded as her father in the hospital she gave birth to Lyane. That's how it all started", she went on. "When Bekhan, for the first time in his life, decided to accept local policy and register as father to his daughter, authorities used the information of his whereabouts to arrest him. As Lieutenant reported to me the legend of those events as told among the Alliance's members, a team of special forces charged their home, arresting her father and killing her mother. Lyane was taken to an orphanage, but soon abducted, and authorities never bothered to search for her."

_One another lesson on what avoidable and unnecessary violence might lead to_, Picard made a note to himself. "How could this possibly have sparked such severe conflict?"

"You see, Captain, Bekhan had been really popular on Loral III", the Lieutenant Commander revealed, "Less for his qualities as a demagogue, but rather for professional achievements. During a drought several years before we started the observer mission on the surface, he manipulated the planet's lower atmosphere into producing just enough rain to have eight major cities to survive, where the irrigation system had collapsed."

"Such an accomplishment would not automatically make him a politician", Picard threw in.

"No, politics on a local level had been pretty much a hobby to him", the Bajoran confirmed, "But those cities were mainly inhabited by members of parties dissident to the governing faction, and investment in infrastructure had been neglected as to pressure them into compliance. When the drought caused the death toll to rise, supporters of the government changed their mind about that policy and demanded action. It was only Bekhan who had specialized in this area of research. Ending the drought earned him a preliminary seat in the cabinet, being voted to become Minister for Scientific Research and Development."

"He could have rejected the appointment."

"Bekhan argued that the post allowed him access to greater research capacities than he had ever dreamed of, and as it turned out, he made full use of them", Jurill repeated the legend about his motivation. "However, he quickly got driven out of office for some charges, valid or made-up, as to have endangered himself and the entire staff with his experiments, and those could not be published or made accessible for security reasons." She paused. A look into her cup told him she might regret the gesture of drinking her tea up as if to put their conversation to an end. In a lower, stern voice, "It was quite a breakthrough he came up with after only four months."

"Don't tell me-"

"Yes, Captain", Jurill voiced his conclusion, "It was Poran Bekhan who invented warp drive on Loral II."


End file.
